


Poison & Wine

by wendydarling



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Minor Character Death, Rentboys, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:09:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wendydarling/pseuds/wendydarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prologue: Niall's a rent boy living in a brothel. Routines are what he's used to, and ever since he came to England, bending over for others is what he does. Then everything changes when he is rented by a supposed billionaire called Harry for an entire night.</p><p>*The next chapter is a 1 year later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Poison & Wine

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: AU, dark theme, dark characters, character death, quite fast-paced.

Night approaches, and I want nothing more than to tie myself to my bed so that I can never get up and face my demons. I did this at least ten times, but I never did try tying myself up.

What I did is to purposefully injure myself on the places where clients always look at so that they won't choose me. They always did though, mind you only those with real gold can get me for even at least ten minutes.

Everyone loves pretty things, and I should be proud of my face and body and treat it like a gift, but it's this face and body that had me in deep shit in the first place.

My bathroom mirror is cracked (due to me hitting my head on it once to injure myself badly enough), and though my reflection is distorted, many men and women will agree that it still creates a breathtaking beauty.

Call me narcissistic, but if you're like me with men whispering to my ear or while I suck them off about how beautiful I am, then you at least gain some vanity.

The plastic door is banged loudly, and it's obvious who this is.

"Yo, Irish! Hurry the fuck up it's almost opening time!' Nick shouts from the other side of the door, "You're easily the most beautiful person in this entire whorehouse! Stop primping and get your arse out here!"

Nick will blow his shit if I scraped my knee. Every time I destroy skin, he makes sure it's healed perfectly with no blemish left.

I gave my reflection one last look-over. The brown roots of my hair are showing over the blond, so that's one reminder: buy more hair dye. Just because Nick loves introducing me to clients as "the sexy and Irish blond twink".

My blue eyes were highlighted by white eyeliner on my lower eyelids, lips a rosy pink thanks to the cheap lip balm and my skin unblemished, perfect and an endless colour of porcelain (another of Nick's favourite way of describing me).

The clothes I'm wearing are ox blood leather trousers that stick to my lower half like skin itself and a white tank top. Nick makes us rent boys wear tank tops or sometimes even singlets while he turns the air-conditioning on. He says it makes our nipples stiff and be seen through the fabric of our so called clothes; he tells us it entices customers.

"Niall! Are you injuring yourself again!? If you are, I'll beat you until you-"

I opened the door, and Nick's angry expression dissolves in delight. His expression reminds me of kids receiving early christmas presents, but I know what he's thinking, and associating him with kids gives me a shudder.

"I see you looking like this everyday for three years and you're still as ethereal as ever." Nick slides his hand behind my neck and smashes our lips together.

I felt his hard-on when he pushes his hips to meet mine, and if this isn't a daily occurrence, I'd probably kick him in the balls.

Nick has this habit of always wanting to have me first before every client. Wether it be a shag, a blow job or snogging, he always wants it to be him first.

Sometimes I don't even get clients thanks to his ridiculously high price set on me. If I were a client, I'd understand if Nick charges a standard £65 an hour because everyone here really does look outstanding, but if you want to have me, it's a £100 or nothing.

I usually get one or no one every night, the most customers I had on one night is three, and that's only every holiday like christmas when clients have a pocket full of cash to burn.

The way things work here is pretty common too. A customer would come in, ask for the rate or their favourite boy, Nick gives the client a key to their chosen rent boy's room, the client waits and 'the chosen one' will arrive. This has been a joke we have running around wherein we call our clients He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Nick doesn't mention me as much as possible, he reasons he likes to keep it mysterious that way. One of the rent boys, George, would reason he only doesn't talk about me to average customers because Nick is too possessive of me.

With a "Mm," Nick pulls away and grins at me, "Go now. I'll still need to check if everyone is already downstairs." I walk past him, and as always, he slaps my arse and walks ahead of me.

I go down the stairs to cross the lobby to the waiting room where us rent boys all wait while Nick sits on his office possibly wanking or managing his other businesses while Josh works out front.

Nick would talk to the customers only when they ask Josh for someone a bit more 'special' than those with a price of £65. He'd mention George, "Brunette, small, angel-faced," Dan, "Also a brunette, very fit and versatile," and Nathan, "Blond, pretty face, tall but skinny". All of them cost £80.

Those who like to top usually go for George and Nathan, those who bottom go to Dan. Sometimes it's a mix of people bottoming for Nathan or topping Dan.

With Nick, unless you ask for the best, he'd never mention me. Those who are my clients are usually travellers with a lot of pocket money or 40-something millionaires who are still good-looking and looking for a chance to cheat on their wife. Said millionaires are the ones who always come back.

Entering the waiting room, I sit next to Dan who is chewing a minty gum. I took one from the bowl of bubblegums and popped it on my mouth. There's a telly hanging on the ceiling where we can see the lobby and watch if we are going to get potential clients. I only ever look up if Nick mentions me. Most of the time I just nap here with Dan, George and Nathan while the others come and go.

"Hey there." Dan greets in between chews. I gave him a smile before responding, "Hello to you too."

"The night looks bleak and boring. I might as well just sleep." He grumbles. I nod in agreement and laid my head on his shoulder.

Dan and I watch as our fellow rent boys come and go. Some of them even get to go to a hotel or something else with their client willing enough to pay more than usual.

The air conditioning is crap, but it's enough to make me crave for warmth that Dan has. The room is bland like my life, and nothing is exciting anymore. I no longer fear anything, and I'm as dirty like a school slut.

In this place, the manifestation of emotions outside passivity is barred.

The world then becomes blurry; a sight very familiar to me, and then I'm off to sleep.

+

"Niall! Wake-up you Irish fucker!"

I opened my eyes to look at Dan questioningly, and he just gestures to the TV where Nick is standing with Josh on the side and a stranger whose face I couldn't see. His head is also covered with a beanie hat.

"No, Grimmie, offer me the best. Is £80 really your best? Someone as cunning as you definitely has more to offer." The man drawled. His voice is deep, gravelly, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

Nick laughs and slaps the guy on the shoulder; they must be acquaintances or maybe even friends.

"Ah, Harry, Harry. Always so sharp; that's why between the two of us, you're the billionaire. Alright, you got me. I have a trump card up my sleeve."

Dan stares at me pointedly, and I could only watch as Nick crosses his arms with a smirk. Me having clients are almost rare or in other words, not consistent. It takes a really push-over customer or a really rich guy to make Nick mention me.

Well, he did call the other guy a billionaire.

"You're a friend, Harry. Might as well tell you about my favourite. He's called Niall. Irish, blond and blue-eyed. Perfect skin too. He's white everywhere besides his lips, tongue, nipples, dick and hole. Practically hairless besides his head. But Harry, even though we're friends, you still have to pay the rate. Niall costs a hundred pounds an hour."

Without even batting an eyelash, the Harry person says, "I'll give you five hundred and I'll have him for the entire night."

Nick guffawed, "The entire night!?" He backtracks and says, "Wait, five hundred?"

I watch in horror as Nick smirks and said, "Fine then. I guess if there's someone who'd actually have Niall in an entire night, it could be you."

"If I'm disappointed, I'll take my money back and shove it up your sloppy arse." He grumbles. Nick laughs loudly at that. He looks up at the camera and smiles straight at it, "Niall, you can go out once I leave."

Nick leaves the room still laughing, and Harry indulges into idle talk with Josh.

The world is spinning, and I have the urge to hit my head on the wall until my skull and the cement has a crack. Getting shagged by strangers every now and then is something I'm accustomed to, not someone who has the permission to handle me anyway they want through and through the entire night.

My feet is burning, and my arms are getting goosebumps. Dan pats my hand gently, ensuring me that everything will be alright.

"Niall," Dan says softly, "Go out there now. You'll be fine."

But I have to do this. This is my job now and nothing else. With a heavy heart, I exited the waiting room and made my way to the lobby.

I kept my head down, a sense of not wanting to acknowledge this person boiling inside of me. What if I get to be rented the entire night like the others? Is this what it's like?

Then my inner self whispers traitorously to me, 'Special treatment is over, Nialler.'

"I'm Niall." I tell the stranger.

I look up to see my newest tormentor's face, and I had to stifle a gasp. Chocolate curls were framing his face, green eyes that were absurdly beautiful and features that reminds of me Greek sculptures made with white marble. His skin's quite tanned, taller than I am and vastly tattooed.

The white v-neck and skinnies he's wearing make him look like a teenage idol out and about.

His eyebrow raised at me, and he tells more to himself than me, "Exceeds expectations." Harry gestures for me to come closer, and I felt naked due to the scrutiny he's subjecting me to.

From another side of the room, Nick laughs and shouts, "What do you say, Styles? He's the prettiest little thing I've seen, if you ask me."

Harry looks at me with a small smirk showing at the corner of his fine lips, "Better than anything I've ever seen before."

I felt awkward standing there with everyone's attention on me. As if Harry felt my discomfort, he wraps his hand which is big and warm and slightly calloused around my right wrist to drag me outside the brothel.

"I'll send the money over tomorrow morning." Harry shouts back at Nick.

The cold air of the night hits me without warning, but Harry didn't give me time to shiver there in front of the brothel. He's then pushing me inside some car that has leather seats.

Harry enters after me and tells the driver to go to a hotel that I'm sure of is a five-star hotel. He stares out the window, and I basked in the heater inside the car.

I let myself lean on the seat, and the rich scent of leather makes me sigh in content. Anything expensive makes me happy. Call me materialistic, but in a world such as ours, you can't help but just want to blow money off like it pops out of your arse.

"Paul, turn the radio on." Harry suddenly says. Paul obliges, and the female news anchor speaks with a hurried tone.

"Breaking news for everyone listening. The infamous drugs dealer and brothel owner, Nicholas Grimshaw or nicknamed Grimmie and Nick at the underworld has been found killed by a guy the rent boys have been calling 'Josh'. The rent boys explain how after the last client left in at least ten minutes, Grimshaw comes out of his office to talk to Josh who instead pulled out a gun and shot Grimshaw between the eyes. Josh has left the scene of the crime while a team of investigators come to find out what happened. The rent boys left will be taken to health services and care. More information after this segment."

It felt hard to breathe. The first thing that came in my mind is that I now no have home nor a job. My friends were at least safe but will probably live a better life now that they are out from Nick's clutches, but what of me?

A hand rubs my back with soothing circles from their palm, and I realise that it's Harry. He's sitting so close beside me, hushing me. My cheeks were wet, and a lone tear escaped my eyes once again and went past my lips.

"You'll be fine, I promise."

He's a stranger who I know nothing about, a stranger who also knows nothing about me. He's supposed to just shag me until morning comes, but I can already foresee him being a bigger part of my world because of this accident.

No. It's definitely not an accident. The driver turned the radio on right in time the news about Nick's murder came through, he was quite on friendly terms with Nick, and I'm surer than ever that he's definitely a part of this now.

"We're here, sir."

The car stops, but my sobbing continued. I don't even know why I keep crying because I don't give a rat's arse with what happens to Nick, so why?

Harry wraps a warm brown coat around my frame trimmed with brown fur on the top. It tickled my cheek and made me stop bawling my eyes out for a bit. I ended up hiccuping.

Harry chuckled. "You keep getting adorable by the minute," Paul opens the door for him and he adds, "I'll give you your options if you come with me right now."

In a blur, we got out of the car, crossed the lobby, a few glances toward my direction due to the clothes I'm wearing, a lot of stares that followed Harry, riding the lifts to the penthouses and entering one. Paul went to his own room while Harry enters the one next to it. He bid the two of us goodnight, and Harry did the same.

We entered a lavishly furnished hotel room complete with a flat screen and even a baby grand piano. It's marvellous and pleasing, but I couldn't muster the energy to take much more of a look.

I opt with sitting on one of the armchairs, tugging Harry's coat around me tighter while he adjusts the room temperature.

Harry seats on the settee next to where I'm sitting at. He pulls the beanie off his head and shook it. He looks much more handsome than before like this.

"Nick Grimshaw owed me half a million pounds. He promised to pay it all back in a week, but its been two months."

"Aren't you two friends?" I asked, looking at his face closely for any sign of remorse or even guilt. There isn't any.

"What is friendship when it's him who betrayed me first? He asks me for money and I give it to him, but he won't pay it back. I'd understand if he wouldn't be able to pay up quickly, but he never bothered contacting me. He must be playing me as a fool; thinking I'm going to let it slide just like that. Foolish trash deserves to be disposed."

Harry looks young, and hearing someone talk like this poignantly reminds me of my state in life. I came to England hoping for a better future, instead, I spent three years bending over for men I don't know to please themselves with me.

"Why did you take me with you?" My voice was a whisper, but it was obvious that Harry heard it because his next words to me were,

"But aren't you the fairest one of all, Niall?"

My heart thumps against my chest, and I'm half-scared he can hear it. I'm inside a penthouse with a cold-blooded killer, a _beautiful_ killer with haunting green eyes.

"I can change your life," Harry starts in a soft voice, "Money, power, sex and material things. I can give you what you want if you stay with me, bit if you choose to leave, I'll readily give you a thousand pounds and make sure you get an apartment and a job. What do you think, Niall? Live with me for the rest of your life surrounded with luxury, or start anew?"

A chance. This is a chance to change everything. I look at Harry, whose eyes were begging me to stay. In just one night, Harry single-handedly changed my life. Now he's offering me crossroads.

Every sane person will choose the latter. Money and a much-needed restart. Anyone will kill to have the opportunity to do it all over again, but I'm too far gone and my sanity's just barely intact tonight.

I know I'll probably look back at this day and wonder what prompted me to choose this decision. Maybe it's Harry's eyes, maybe it's the promise of eternal pleasure, or it could just be an impulse of picking the road less taken. Maybe it's because everything's going to be predictable if I do the common choice, or really, it's probably Harry.

Either way, the expensive room was witness to me sealing my faith.

"Take me with you."


	2. Heavy Hitter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt: This would've been perfect. It would be if curls are tickling my ears, or the feel of an expensive blazer brushing my arms and not a leather jacket. Would be if I’m under silk sheets and dizzy with cognac, soft lightning behind my closed eyes instead of club lights.

There are many shades of colours that my life has. But one thing is for sure that it revolves around Harry Styles. I have so many personas that sometimes, even I lose track of it.

A bright shade of yellow like the sun is Niall James Horan who studies sociology; the boy who returned to school after a medical problem.

Deep calm blue is simply Niall who works in a supermarket. The responsible and mature boy saving up money for a better apartment, groceries, or to pay for school supplies.

The one I enjoy the most is blood red Niall Styles. 

Descriptions about this persona also come in different kinds. He likes to buy property like it's candy, his suits are all from Hugo Boss and Dior, the watches are all Rolex, he has a name plate on his room made out of sapphires, and my personal favourite, Harry Styles' boy toy.

Of course, there is also my award-winning sob story that those who don't like me in Harry's organisation uses to provoke a reaction from either I or Harry (the latter only happened once and resulted into a bullet through the man's skull).

"He's just that brat playing mafia's whore,"

"Got seduced by money that blond kid,"

"Styles bought that rent boy? He really did?"

I try to not let it get to me, but my bodyguard Liam Payne seems to know when the words feel like pointy ice structures stabbing me or not. If it's too much to handle, he'll pull the guy by the collar and crack his neck.

It makes me wonder if Harry is aware that his goons lessen due to Liam and his tendencies to send people in the hospital, but he doesn't seem to give a care. 

Liam once told me that, "It's fine, sir. Our boss has his own squad of soldiers on his direct command. Disposing of these rubbish bitching about you is nothing to him. In fact, they lighten the budget."

That statement coming from Liam who hardly talks surprised me a good lot.

"Hey Niall, wanna join us for a little karaoke?" 

My unfinished english essay registered on my eyesight, and I took the time to comb my features into an apologising one.

"Oh, no thanks. I have plans tonight." I smiled, making sure my eyebrows were cast down and eyes a bit crinkled.

With a whine, Eleanor held on my arm and said, "But you never join us! The bar we're going to will be holding their grand opening tonight and there will be massive prizes to give away for karaoke contestants."

This happens at least once a week ever since I started working here in the supermarket. Harry always reminds me to go home early, but the pout Eleanor has on screams loudly enough that she is not talking no for an answer.

Sighing, I nodded my head and placed my essay back in my rucksack. Whooping, Eleanor went outside the Employees Only room shouting, "Guys, guys, guys! Niall agreed!"

Harry wouldn't know anyway. He's been gone doing business again in some part of the world he didn't bother telling me. 

My guess is something like Afghanistan, because when he's off to commercial cities like Paris, he'd say goodbye with a slow shag and whispering "I'd get you some diamonds," or "Maybe a nice new Philippe with your name engraved in gold."

Well, tonight I'll go out and have some fun. Maybe let a boy get a snog or if he's really hot maybe give him head. Just because Harry is not here doesn't mean I can't get my pleasure elsewhere.

I am well aware he too has sex when away, so why can't I? He doesn't have to know, or care. I love Harry like how I love the money, pleasure and power, but I'm a healthy male who needs to release some tension.

Our little group consisted of me, Eleanor, Danielle, Olly and Conor. They all work at the supermarket with me and either move boxes or handle the cashier. 

We rode a cab to go to the bar. Danielle sat in front with Eleanor and us men were on the back. I can't deny Olly's wandering hand on my knee. He's bisexual and friends with benefits with Conor, but the man is hot.

You'd think being a rent boy before have shut down all my tendencies to like sex. I did, but if you're getting bended over and shagged like it's the last one by Harry Styles, you'd crave it like a bee to honey.

Fervent touching, sweaty skin sliding against each other, mouths attached to each other, tattoos and tanned skin with those green eyes shut and chocolate brown curl tickling my neck as he thrusts into me.

God. 

I miss Harry.

"We're here, Niall." 

Olly breaks my trance by whispering on my ear. His chin bumped onto my cheek, purposefully or not, he still smirked at me when I looked up at him. 

A smile would be polite enough; showing that I think he is just being friendly and nothing else. I got out at the same time Eleanor and Danielle did.

We entered the bar, and my first reaction was to narrow my eyes due to the dance lights. A strong chest bumps on my back, and it doesn't take a genius to know it's Olly.

"Dani, El and Conor headed for karaoke," He's got a cheeky grin on his lips; confident, "Want to dance?"

Inwardly sighing, I tried to stare levelly into Olly's eyes even though he's taller than me by a couple of inches, "I can't, Olly. Understand that, okay?"

He chuckled, then say, "At least I tried." Here I thought he's the type to never give up.

"Wanna go to the karaoke now?" I shook my head, gestured to the bar and smiled apologetically. "Just know that El and Dani will go hunt for you if you don't arrive there in ten minutes."

"Well, you could always win the karaoke contest for them." He laughed and ruffled my hair before leaving. 

"You a catcher?" 

Or maybe I shouldn't have made Olly go. This guy's giving me a toothy grin and he doesn't look half bad, but I have better standards like smouldering green eyes, curls and owners of fast cars.

Who is not here anyway so who the fuck cares.

And then I had tunnel vision. 

He's staring back and has tattoos on his arms, the standard leather jacket of the type of guys you shouldn't go home with and jet black hair styled into a quiff. There's a beer bottle on his hand and a cancer stick positioned between his lips.

A smirk, a wink, and he's making his way to the dance floor and Christ he's really beautiful. He hands his beer to some random guy who takes it in confusion and to end up in a trance when he saw the the dark stranger's face.

My feet moved on their own, and now that I can finally see him close, my heart started beating rapidly. I should be used go beauty, after all Harry is a person that could only be carved by the Greek gods, but this boy is just so-

"Hey, you care for a dance?"

This is not prom night, or an annual family reunion, but the gesture made me nod. He's pulling me by the waist, stubble grazing my cheek, and within seconds, his mouth is attached to my neck.

"Freckles," He said against my skin, "I can mark all these the entire night and not get bored."

The lower he gets, the more my grip on his shoulder blades tighten. No one seems to care, seeing as not only us are getting steamy.

This would've been perfect. It would be if curls are tickling my ears, or the feel of an expensive blazer brushing my arms and not a leather jacket. Would be if I'm under silk sheets and dizzy with cognac, soft lightning behind my closed eyes instead of club lights.

His hand moves to my back to cup my arse, and his words hit me, "Firm like a porn star's."

I pushed him off, and he looked confused, "What is it?"

"I have a boyfriend," I managed to choke out, "This is a mistake." His brows furrowed at first, then the smirk on his lips is like that of the devil's, "Sex with taken strangers feels the best."

My knees buckled on their own, but his arms were catching me, saying, "I've got a pretty Mercedes; I'm sure you'd find that suitable."

I can almost imagine Harry sneering, "Mercedes? Some lame old junk brand."

Then my phone is ringing. The stranger loosens his hold on me to step back and give some privacy. I muttered a "Thanks," but he still didn't leave. 

"Hello?"

"Niall," It was Liam, snarling my name out, "Where are you? It's almost nine, and Harry's being picked up from the airport right now."

The stranger looked confused; the nervousness and surprised I'm feeling must be showing on my face.

"W-what? I didn't know he's returning today."

Liam took a deep breath and continued, "I'm here in front of the bar you're at. I don't care if some guy's prick is up your arse, get out of there now and meet me at the back."

I don't even want to know how Liam knew where I am.

"Baby, what's the problem?" The stranger asked. He's the picture of utmost casualty with a new cigarette on his fingers.

"Niall," Liam started again, "I need to get you home before Harry comes, or he might as well throw a tantrum and shoot bullets."

With a much softer tone, Liam adds, "He'd approve of it if he comes home to see the person he loves the most waiting for him."

God dammit I shouldn't have gone here.

"Okay Liam, I will." Before I could click the phone shut, Liam said, "Niall, hurry okay, I-" 

I pushed off the stranger when he tried to block. I spotted Conor sitting on the stools trying to get a girl drunk.

"Mate, I need to go. Family duties." He nods and said that he'd pass off the message to El and Dani. I said thanks and began going to the first corner where the back exit might be.

"I didn't got your name," It's the stranger, "But I'm Zayn."

I closed my eyes and collected my thoughts. Turning back to the Zayn person, I said in my most serious tone, "Look, Zayn, my boyfriend is back in town, and if he finds you with me, he wouldn't hesitate to place a bullet between your eyes."

Zayn smirked more. He tugged on my wrist and placed it on his waist. I felt something hard and metal with a concave end.

"No worries blondie. I got myself covered."

'Dear Lord in heaven, why do I attract all the gun-wielding guys?'

"Zayn, please," Tough guys are weak to submissive ones so I have to beg here, "I need to go."

He's scowling now and puffing smoke through his nose. I mentally rolled my eyes at how obvious he is, "My name's Niall. Leave me alone now?"

Zayn's dark brown eyes (which is fucking pretty by the way) got a victorious gleam, "Niall and probably Irish. I'd find you again, babe."

I suppressed saying "No, you won't," and just turned away. 

"That's not the exit. It's on the other side of the bar."

He's right, seeing that I'm now facing a wall.

"Thanks." I mumbled. Zayn grasps my wrist again, "What do you wa-"

He presses his lips to my open ones, mouth also open and blowing smoke down my throat. As annoyed as I may be, this is fucking sexy. Harry doesn't smoke, so I'm not familiar with cigarette kisses.

It burns, and his fingers grip my wrists hard. The thought that he'd be leaving marks again made me push him off. I run past him and Zayn's laughing, saying again that he'd find me.

I found the back exit; breathless, lips probably bruised and skin spotted with hickeys. I can only hope that when I cover it up with concealer, Harry wouldn't notice.

I fixed my hair, calmed my heart, and straightened the collar of my red polo. I don't need Liam to see me like I just had a shag in the loo.

Opening the backdoor made such a rickety sound I had to do it slowly or it might come off it's hinges.

And then the sight that greets me made me want to shut the door and run.

Liam is there, head bowed as he stand beside the black Porsche he uses to chaperone me around. But he's not the only one in the spacious back of the bar. 

There were two black Mazda's with two men for each car with a stick straight posture wearing black suits and a headpiece. Then there's the all-too familiar Range Rover dominating the vicinity. 

Standing in the middle of it all is Harry. His hands were inside the pockets of his skinny jeans, a white shirt, his favourite brown coat trimmed with grey on the hood and brown boots. 

His neck tattoos are showing, and when I looked up to his face, I took an instinctual step back into the bar. His chin is raised up in a superior manner, green eyes looking down at me through his eyelashes and the corners of his mouth down.

Harry doesn't look like he should be here, or that he should be running a business that boys his age can't do.

"Niall."

Like that time he asked me to be with him one year ago, I stayed quiet and on my toes. He's walking towards me, the only sound being made was those of his shoes.

I followed his face until we're almost breathing the same air. His lip curls to the side, showing his dimple. 

"You're coming home now." He whispers. I nod, because what else can I do? Harry clasps our hands together, blunt nails digging on my knuckles. 

He doesn't pull or lead me to his Range Rover; he slows down his long strides to match mine, letting me set my own pace.

I took my chances and leaned against him. I miss this warmth, this body, and this person who looks over me in an almost smother. But he doesn't scare me with that. In fact, it makes me feel all the more loved.

"So the mafia brat is your boyfriend, Niall?"

Harry stopped walking to turn to the source of the voice. Zayn's standing by the door smoking alone. At least I know that if guns appear Zayn's outnumbered.

"Malik." 

Harry knows him? 

"Styles," Zayn nods his head as a form of greeting, "Been a long time since I last saw you."

"Guess you became rich in a later date than mine." Harry's voice didn't hold any mocking undertone, just plain flat.

Zayn's boisterous laughter echoed off the place. He threw his cigarette on the ground and stomped on it. "True, true. But I've got dough now and getting what I want."

His brown eyes met mine and with a smirk, said, "Though I must say, your Niall is very... likeable." 

In a flash, Harry's pushing me behind him and the men wearing suits are taking out guns. Automatically, I gripped his coat and the rush of fear I had when I first met him returns. This time though, it's directed to Zayn and his well-being.

From what I can see behind Harry, Zayn's holding his arms up. The cocky expression remains on his face. "Woah, woah. I don't want a shoot-out. It's one against hm, lemme see, six."

"Was he your guy for tonight, Niall?" Harry suddenly asks, gaze still directed at Zayn. I mumbled a, "Yes."

"Let me tell you one thing, Malik. Niall might have went for you tonight, but he's coming home with me and you'll never stand a chance." Harry's smug about it, and, well, he is right anyway.

Not only because I'm afraid of what he'll do if I did meet Zayn again; Harry's enough. Zayn's gorgeous and fiery and seductive, but Harry will never cease to arouse me.

Harry leads me to the car with his hand on my back. He motions for Liam and the other men to get moving. Seeing that he's going to drive, he opens the passenger seat for me.

I got inside and was about to shut the door when Zayn said, "I'd get your blond underneath me soon, Styles. Give me a few days and he'd be coming on to me in no time."

Then Harry's pushing my door close, gun at hand and firing at Zayn's direction.

Naturally, I screamed. I hit the window with my fists, shouting for him to stop. I only stopped when I saw on the other side that Zayn is still standing and that the cemented wall next to his head is where the bullet hit.

Harry's still into a firing position, and Zayn, he just dismisses Harry like it was nothing. He even had the gall to say, "I thought you were the best shooter, Styles? Wasn't that why the old man made you in charge of London?"

"The next shot will hit you, Malik. If you show your face here in my territory again, I'll personally send your decapitated head to your men." Harry says.

That seemed to shut Zayn up for he's now walking away, he waved his hand in goodbye and closes the door to the back exit. 

I slumped on my seat and let the cold sweat take over. My hands are shaking, quivering, like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over my head.

Harry never fired a bullet in front of me, and seeing him doing it disturbs my sanity. He's beautiful, powerful, dark, deadly and dangerous. How can I not fall for such sins?

One by one the cars exit the place and is making their way back to the mansion near the outskirts. They waited for Harry to drive in front before tailing us.

"When going to such places, you must make sure you have someone to accompany you. That's why you have Liam, Niall." Harry said. I can't really say anything into this situation seeing as it was my fault for flirting with Zayn.

"Malik should be thankful for you," He starts again, "If you weren't watching, I would've decorated the concrete with his blood and guts."

+

The ride home was silent. I didn't know what to say, and Harry chose to not say anything anymore. 

Arriving at the mansion, we got out of the car and headed straight to his bedroom; our bedroom. 

As per routine, Harry takes off his shoes, shirt and coat except for his pants. He walks to me and tilted my chin up while pulling the collar of my red polo down.

"Malik did a good job on you." He says with a growl. Harry went for the other side of my neck where there were no hickeys from Zayn. 

Getting the hint of what he wanted to, I raised my arms up for him to take off my polo. Without missing a beat, his lips are on the unmarked side of my neck and making hickeys bloom.

If Zayn's touch made my skin burn, with Harry, it feels ablaze. His free hand pulled me closer to him roughly. It makes our heated skin touch as if we never shagged before. 

He stopped the marking and whispered to my ear, "I'll make you never want to go back to him, or anyone. You belong to me Niall, and only to me."

In the same hushed and aroused tone, I said, "Always, Harry. Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sure if I would continue this. There are a lot of possibilities since Zayn is now in the picture, but what do you guys think?


End file.
